


we could be more

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, PP2, Valentine's Day, half angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Chloe just cannot figure out who her mystery Valentines Card is from, and Beca is tired of hearing it. Fic to go along with one of my AU gif sets. PP2 setting.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 44
Kudos: 326
Collections: Finishedstoriesmine





	we could be more

**Author's Note:**

> Gif set linked at the end to avoid spoilers!

Beca will stand firmly by the fact that Valentine’s Day is a truly stupid holiday. In fact, it isn’t even a holiday; it’s a day for already money-hungry candy companies to make an even bigger profit than usual, and for mediocre restaurants to go up in popularity while everybody fights for a reservation, because apparently, there is something special about February the fourteenth, but Beca cannot figure out for the life of her what it is.

And, okay, she knows she probably sounds like a woman scorned, but that really is not it. It has nothing to do with the fact that, this time last year, Beca had a Valentine’s date planned with Jesse, one that she protested against profusely, but eventually decided to give into. It has nothing to do with the fact that they broke up in August, and that this will be Beca's first single Valentine’s Day in three years. She just… Doesn’t see the big deal.

Beca's is apparently an unpopular opinion amidst her current company, of course, demonstrated by the long, dramatic sigh to sound from the bed behind her. It is a conflicting sound, one of mixed emotions—neither vehemently happy nor sad. Whatever the reason, it causes Beca to turn around in her swivel chair, dark brow quirking in the process.

“What’s up?” Beca questions, noticing the wistful look displayed plainly across Chloe’s features. They are supposed to be working on their arrangement for Worlds, though while Beca tries—admittedly without much luck—to hastily pull together a decent sounding setlist, Chloe has seemingly given up on choreography for the time being, and has taken to lying front-down on Beca’s single bed, clicking through emails on her iPhone.

“Valentine’s Day,” Chloe responds simply, auburn brows beginning to knit softly. The expression causes the bridge of Chloe’s nose to wrinkle in a way that Beca has noted on more than one occasion is kind of cute, though it is a thought she tends to push down deep within her, because friends don’t find their friends _cute_. Chloe just… She has these little things, these traits, that Beca cannot help but admire sometimes, that’s all.

“What about it?” Beca’s head tilts slightly, and she wonders if she is going to have to reel off her whole speech again, the one about how Valentine’s Day is stupid, and that it is not a holiday at all, much less one to get excited about. Or sad… Or whatever Chloe is feeling right now.

“Just emails,” Chloe shrugs halfheartedly. “I keep getting emails for offers and deals at all of these cute little restaurants. I pride myself on always having a Valentines date, you know? But I don’t this year.”

Beca ignores the joy within her at the revelation—not only because taking pleasure in Chloe’s disappointment feels incredibly cruel. In reality, despite the fact that she will insist until she is blue in the face that Chloe is nothing more than a best friend to her, Beca knows that that is absolutely not the case. Not really.

It started around Christmas time. At least, that is what Beca will tell herself. She does not count the longing looks and lingering stares shared between the two of them beginning the first time they ever met, the way Chloe had her so intrigued from that very first meeting that Beca just knew there was something special about her, something that was going to deem her an incredibly important part of her life. They were just looks, that was all. Then Beca had begun dating Jesse, and she had been entirely devoted to him. Did she notice a change in she and Chloe’s relationship throughout the course of their time together? Of course. Chloe was less handsy, she stopped hooking her pinky finger through Beca’s when the two would walk anywhere side by side—an action that, at first, Beca had found strange, but that had quickly become just so very _Chloe_ that she’d learned to accept it. More than, in fact—she had learned to like it.

Those looks and stares had dwindled away, and where there had been numerous instances shared between them before that would see the two of them alone in a room together, seated so closely that Beca could smell the scent of cool mint gum on Chloe’s breath, and Beca’s heart would begin to race with the way Chloe’s crystal blue gaze would drift down toward her dry lips in tense moments of silence, those occasions came to an abrupt halt.

And then the breakup had happened; Beca and Jesse had decided mutually that they had grown apart and that the best thing to do moving forward would be to do so separately, and all of a sudden it had begun again. Those looks, those moments… Honestly, Beca had not realized just how much she’d missed them—how much she’d missed Chloe.

Because, in spite of her loyalty to her ex-boyfriend throughout the duration of their relationship, Beca had been right in assuming she had seen something special in Chloe Beale from that very first meeting, and as wrong as it feels to admit so—something Beca is almost certain she will _never_ do aloud—Chloe is more than just a friend to her. Sometimes, Beca thinks that Chloe feels it, too. But considering Beca would never have the courage to ask, and that Chloe had rightfully opted to back off when Beca and Jesse had happened, it is not something she is ever going to be sure of. And honestly? That is a realization that truly crushes her heart.

The same way Chloe looks so crushed right now, in fact.

“You know that it’s just another day, right?” Beca frowns, though there is an unfamiliar softness to her tone, one that replaces the usual scoff she would emit when arguing against the significance of Valentine’s Day.

“No, it’s not,” Chloe counters, shaking her head softly. The soft curls to have fallen from her ponytail shake rhythmically, and Beca forces herself not to watch too intently. In fact, she tries not to even notice… Except, she totally notices. “It’s a day of love, Beca.”

Beca’s brow quirks again, this time because she is silently questioning just how many times Chloe has been in love. As far as Beca has known, she has never had a long-term relationship, at least not during her time at Barden. Chloe dates plenty, but her romantic connections tend not to grow past the sexual level, and as far as Beca can remember, none of her previous Valentines dates have been with people she has been in love with. Unless she has and she just hasn’t divulged that information to Beca, but that seems unlikely—they are best friends, they tell one another everything… Mostly.

Almost as if Chloe can read her mind, she continues with another small shrug. “It’s just nice to feel special on a day that’s specifically for that purpose, you know?”

While Beca stands by her feelings, by the fact that Valentine’s Day is just another day, she finds herself slowly nodding her head in understanding. It is clearly something Chloe is passionate about, and that is enough for Beca to drop her own preconceived notion of its stupidity. The same way she drops her headphones down gently onto her desk, before pushing herself up from her chair and, with only a small amount of caution, makes her way toward the bed.

Chloe continues to frown at her phone screen, but breaks to glance upward as Beca approaches, offering her a small, somewhat weak smile. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to you,” Beca counters, plopping down softly onto the edge of the bed. It’s her bed, yet Chloe is the one sprawled out comfortably, while Beca settles herself neatly to the side, in a way that hopefully will not encroach on Chloe’s space—a learned behavior thanks to the last few years.

“You think it’s dumb, though,” Chloe points out, expression wrinkling into a small frown again, to which Beca quickly shakes her head.

“I think the day is dumb,” Beca clarifies simply, “I don’t think your feelings are.”

And there it is again, one of those moments. Those moments that Beca cannot help but notice, that she wishes she could just ignore, but that she can’t; two sets of blue eyes burning into one another, Beca fighting to keep from chewing down onto her bottom lip in some kind of inexplicable anticipation as the air around them stills.

“How are you doing?” Chloe asks in a softer tone, one that matches the way her hand outstretches to begin running her fingertips delicately along the visible part of Beca’s leg. It is a sign of comfort and platonic affection, Beca knows that, but she cannot keep herself from taking something more from it. “First Valentine’s Day since everything…”

“I’m fine,” Beca shrugs, her answer an honest one in spite of what could likely be perceived as feigned nonchalance. She has to keep herself from rolling her eyes, in fact, because boyfriend or no boyfriend, Valentine’s Day is just another day to her. But to say so again seems unfair, especially because it seems to mean so much to Chloe.

* * *

For someone who feels so strongly against Cupid’s made up day of love, Beca sure finds that she spends a lot of time thinking about it over the next couple days. She still doesn’t care, she still thinks it’s stupid, but there is something truly heartbreaking about the idea of Chloe waking up on Valentine’s morning to not feel as special as she wants to. In reality, it is likely that she will receive a whole bunch of cards from secret admirers, because who would be crazy enough _not_ to admire Chloe Beale? Whether secretly or not. But Beca cannot shake the feeling of ‘what if’. What if Chloe wakes to nothing, to find that nobody has thought about her enough to send her something to make her smile.

It is that particular ‘what if’ that has Beca now seated on her bed where Chloe had sprawled comfortably only days before, cross-legged, and staring at a sealed pink envelope, Chloe’s name printed in plain font across the front—she would know her handwriting, Beca is sure of it, so typing everything out had been the safest option.

Had she meant to get as carried away with the whole thing as she had? No, absolutely not. Beca had planned to write something along the lines of: _To Chloe, happy Valentine’s Day. xo Your Secret Admirer._

Not that Beca considers herself a secret admirer, as fitting a title as it may be. But that feels creepy, so Beca shakes off the thought.

How it had become the detailed message still typed out on the computer screen in front of her, Beca does not know. Or maybe she does… Maybe it is because she has wanted to tell Chloe all of the things detailed in her card for so long now that this felt like the perfect opportunity to do so—the perfect opportunity to do it _anonymously_. There is a fear within her that, despite opting to type up the card’s message, Chloe will still figure out it is from her, but there is also a small part of Beca that wants her to. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding her own feelings, to finally let Chloe know, now that they’re both single and available for the first time in more than two years, exactly how she feels.

It is after midnight, technically already Valentine’s Day, but Beca, although tired, is still awake, the silence radiating around the Bellas house almost deafening. As usual, Amy is hanging out with Bumper, something she will deny as hard as possible, but that Beca (and the rest of the girls) are thoroughly aware of. So, Beca is alone, focused eyes scanning over the document before her:

_Chloe,_

_In that movie you like, Love Actually, one of the characters says something about how, if you can’t tell someone how you feel at Christmas, then when can you? Well, I think they must’ve forgotten about Valentine’s Day._

_So, this February 14th, I want to tell you exactly how important you are, exactly how much you mean to so many people in this world, but more specifically, how much you mean to me._

_I love you. In fact, no, I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. And if you ever find yourself doubting how special you are, just remember, you mean more than you know to me._

_Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope it’s every bit as perfect as you._

As she reads and rereads her own words, Beca cannot help but note just how ridiculous they sound, how _intense_ they sound. But, the important thing is that they do not sound like _her_ words. Intentionally, she has made sure they do not sound like anything she would say, despite the fact that she means every part of the message.

There is no going back now. Of course, Beca could very well just tear up the card and dispose of it, but she cannot change what is already written now that the envelope is sealed. Still, Beca is not one hundred percent certain that she is even going to do anything with it, and decides that she will wait until morning to decipher whether she can muster up the courage to act on her ridiculous idea or not.

“You’re still awake?”

The familiar voice that breaks into the stillness of the room catches Beca off guard, so much so that she physically jumps on the spot.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Beca practically yelps, instinctively turning to stuff the bright pink envelope between her two pillows in something of a panicked flurry.

“What? I just got home,” Amy shrugs, a look of mild confusion etched onto her face.

Normally, Beca hears Amy approaching from a mile away—her roommate is definitely not a subtle person, after all; if she isn’t talking, she’s singing to herself. It dawns on her now, though, that in her attempt to not be caught spending time with the man she insists that she despises, Amy had probably crept as quietly as possible into the house, not wanting anybody to know just how late she’d arrived home.

Beca scowls one of her deepest scowls, heart racing at an alarming rate. Not necessarily because Amy had startled her, but because of the envelope. Beca thinks she managed to hide it in time, but it was a close call. “Don’t sneak up on people like that,” she grumbles, shuffling backward toward the edge of the bed. Her halfhearted warning does nothing to intimidate Amy at all.

Instead, Amy hums to herself as she disappears toward the bathroom, and Beca uses the moment of privacy to hastily retrieve the card from beneath her pillow, stuffing it quickly into the drawer beside her bed.

Despite her shaken nerves, as Beca slips beneath the blankets with a slight frown of disgruntlement still displayed across her face, she feels her eyes growing quickly heavy, and before Amy even returns, she has already begun to drift off to sleep.

* * *

It is unlike Beca to wake early. She is decidedly not a morning person. However, the night had been spent tossing and turning, the decision about whether or not to actually give the Valentines card to Chloe repeatedly swaying back and forth through her mind. She still does not have a solid answer for herself, still does not know if she will actually go through with it. Beca can hear the girls downstairs, though, an air of excitement to their morning chatter, and she wonders if Chloe has received any anonymous cards or gifts from anybody else. Curiosity gets the better of her, and Beca decides that she will go down there and see. Then, if Chloe is Valentine-less, she will go and leave the card by the door, as if someone has simply slipped it inside without anybody noticing.

For someone who got home as late as Amy did, she is all smiles this morning, practically bouncing around the kitchen as she prepares breakfast. Beca often wonders where Amy musters all of her energy from. Perhaps it’s true that opposites really do attract, because Beca considers Amy her best friend (after Chloe), and of course has her own specific feelings toward Chloe, too; the two people in the Bellas house who seem to constantly radiate positive energy. They are both a nice balance to counter Beca’s pessimism, if she really thinks about it.

“What are they all laughing about?” Beca asks mid-stretch, the sound of the rest of the girls giggling like high schoolers drifting in from the living room.

“Valentines cards, I think,” Amy shrugs halfheartedly, reaching into the fridge to retrieve a carton of orange juice. “Stacie got, like, a thousand.”

“Of course she did,” Beca responds with a sarcastic eye roll. The fact that she lives with a group of people who would react the way her friends are currently all acting in response to something so dumb has her biting back a sigh. Then again, considering Beca is the only one not joining in, perhaps she’s the weird one?

“Chloe got a really sweet one,” Amy continues, cutting into Beca’s thoughts. She is busy pouring herself a glass of juice, so fortunately does not see the way Beca’s intrigue becomes incredibly apparent in response.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Pretty deep message in it.”

Well, Beca thinks, at least that makes up her mind for her. She doesn’t have to give Chloe her card; she already received one, and while the thought of not telling Chloe how she feels—anonymously, anyway—causes her heart to sink momentarily, Beca realizes that she can also relax.

At least, in a fleeting moment of misguided hope, that is what she thinks. It becomes apparent to her quickly that the presumption is premature, because as Beca lazily makes her way into the living room to check out Chloe’s valentine with as much nonchalance as she can muster, her heart practically stops.

“What’s that?” Beca asks somewhat dumbly, eyes trained on the familiar card held protectively in Chloe’s hands. Chloe is skimming over the message, obviously not for the first time, and Beca notes that there is an almost shy smile displayed across her lips.

“Valentines card,” Chloe states proudly, turning the card around to hand over to Beca.

While the sight of an identical card to the one she’d bought only a day earlier had worried her at first, Beca knows that it really is a pretty generic design. There are probably countless people on campus alone opening that exact same card right now, in fact. So, she does not expect her eyes to land on the message inside.

_Chloe,_

_In that movie you like, Love Actually, one of the characters says something about how, if you can’t tell someone how you feel at Christmas, then when can you? Well, I think they must’ve forgotten about Valentine’s Day._

_So, this February 14th, I want to tell you exactly how important you are, exactly how much you mean to so many people in this world, but more specifically, how much you mean to me._

_I love you. In fact, no, I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. And if you ever find yourself doubting how special you are, just remember, you mean more than you know to me._

_Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope it’s every bit as perfect as you._

For a moment, Beca’s throat feels incredibly dry. As far as she is aware, she doesn’t sleepwalk, there is no conceivable way as to how that card could’ve ended up in Chloe’s hands, not without Chloe literally going through Beca’s drawer and finding it herself. However, the fact is, it really is right there, right in front of her, and the look she is met with as fear-filled eyes drift upward toward Chloe’s face is not a knowing one. If anything, Chloe actually looks a little confused.

“There’s no name,” Chloe states, gently taking the card back—good timing really, considering Beca’s hands have begun to shake—and Beca watches as she reads over the message again. She can only imagine how many times she has read it so far. Knowing Chloe, she already has it memorized. “I don’t know who sent it, it was just with the rest of the cards at the door when we got up.”

Beca knows that simply gawking in response is definitely not the right move, and quickly searches her brain for a verbal reaction. Any verbal reaction will do, she thinks.

“Uh, who do you think it’s from?” Beca asks in as calm a tone as possible. All she can do is hope that Chloe cannot read her mind, and that she sounds as collected as she is attempting to be.

“I don’t know,” Chloe shrugs, that small, appreciative smile still displayed on her lips. Beca has a feeling it will be there all day. “Maybe Tom.”

It doesn’t make sense to Beca, considering she has spent the last little while terrified of Chloe figuring out the secret, why her heart drops at the mention of someone else’s name. She should be glad that Chloe doesn’t know, that they are not in the middle of an awkward conversation where Beca tries desperately to explain herself in front of all of their friends. Relieved, even. So, why isn’t she?

“Or that new Treble kid,” Stacie pipes up from across the room. “I forget his name. The freshman who practically drools every time he sees you.”

“I doubt that,” Chloe chuckles quietly, gaze lowering to the card again. A part of Beca wishes she would stop, that she would focus on anything but the message, _her_ message. “I mean, if it is, he has some pretty strong feelings for somebody who has never spoken to me before.”

“That dude from the club then,” Stacie shrugs, “He seemed pretty into you.”

“Or someone else entirely,” Amy’s voice rings through the room. The volume catches Beca’s attention, and she turns to glance over her shoulder at her approaching roommate. She takes note of the way Amy seems to very specifically not look her in the eye, and with a very sickening, very sudden realization, Beca’s stomach begins to twist. Her lips purse tightly, accusing eyes narrowing in on Amy’s face, until she notices the way Amy glances toward her briefly, before focusing on her breakfast.

“Hey, Amy,” Beca begins through gritted teeth, words spoken somewhat slowly so as not to voice her anger to the rest of the group. Her stance would likely give her away if anyone was paying attention, though, considering the way her hands are planted harshly against her hips. Amy grunts, but doesn’t look up from her plate. “Can you help me with something upstairs? Now?”

Fortunately, Chloe has gone back to staring dreamily at her Valentines card, so she either does not notice the urgency behind Beca’s annoyed tone, or at least doesn’t register it. Amy does, though, so although she does so somewhat hesitantly, she eventually pushes herself up from the position she has just taken on the couch, and Beca begins to lead the way in silence toward their attic bedroom.

“Before you say anything—” Amy says once they are safely ascending the staircase up to their room, though Beca quickly cuts her off with a shake of her head and an expression of more than just mild anger. It is more so embarrassment that has her cheeks flushing the deep shade of red they currently are.

“Why would you do that?” Beca hisses, turning toward Amy once they are in the privacy of their room. “How did you even know it was in there? Jesus, Amy, that’s so fucked up!”

“Okay, calm down,” Amy frowns, setting her breakfast plate down on the nearest surface.

While Amy makes her way toward her bed and sits herself down comfortably on the edge, Beca begins to pace the floor in front of her, the reality of the situation finally setting in. Even though Chloe evidently has no idea that the card is from her—and it is clear that she truly does not know—Amy does. Amy knows that those words, that message inside of that card likely still held tightly in Chloe Beale’s hands, came from Beca.

“I saw you try to hide it last night when I came in here. I was gonna just leave it, but you fell asleep without turning off your laptop, and your message was right there on the screen.” Amy pauses, motioning toward the laptop perched on the edge of Beca’s bed. How she had managed not to kick it off during the night is a miracle, but also irrelevant, all things considered. “I knew there was no way you were gonna send that, but it was obviously something you wanted her to know. I did you a favor.”

“You did me a fa—” Beca trails off, both too angry and embarrassed to even finish her sentence. It dawns on her as she paces, the fact that Amy does not seem surprised by the message. It doesn’t seem to be news to her at all, the way Beca feels. Is it really that obvious? Does anybody else know? Does _Chloe_ know? The mental quiz causes Beca to groan in frustration. “God!”

“Beca, come on,” Amy sighs, pushing herself back up from the mattress. It is only at the feeling of Amy’s hands gripping gently onto her arms that Beca finally stops pacing. She shoots a death glare Amy’s way, but does not verbally react. “I’m sorry, alright? I know it was a private thing, and I shouldn’t have meddled. But she doesn’t know it’s from you. She’s been down there talking about how it sounds like something Tom would say for the last hour. If you really don’t want her to know, then I think you’re safe. She has no idea.”

Again, the mention of somebody else’s name where her own should be causes Beca’s stomach to twist in a very much unwelcome way. It is a brief, momentary reaction, though, before she remembers that she should be relieved. So, again, why isn’t she?

Beca’s eyes close, and she takes a moment to suck in a centering breath. “She really doesn’t know?” She asks, tone a little more defeated this time. Beca's shoulders slump, and another soft groan escapes her lips. “God, what if she figures it out, though?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“What?”

“Think about it,” Amy presses, evidently unfazed by the glare shot her way again. “Why would you even write it? Don’t you think, on some level, you want her to know?”

“I…” Beca begins, though she finds that she does not have an actual answer. Instead, her shoulders fall again, head tilting back with a defeated whine.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell anyone, okay? I’m your best friend, Beca. I’ve got your back,” Amy assures her, and while Beca wants to respond with something snarky about how if she really had her back, she would not have rooted through her drawer and then gone behind her back the way she had, there is some kind of sincerity in Amy’s eyes that has her choosing not to argue. Beca is still annoyed, still angry about the whole thing, but she knows that, deep down, Amy did not act maliciously, and in spite of herself, in spite of the fact that she probably shouldn’t, Beca has already forgiven her.

* * *

For the next few days, Beca feels as though she is walking on eggshells. Considering Amy knows her deep and personal feelings for Chloe, she cannot help but act cautiously when in the presence of them both, scared of Amy seeing something she perhaps would not have before. As for Chloe, she truly is none the wiser, and while a part of Beca is grateful that her anonymity is still intact, she also cannot help the sinking feeling deep inside of herself whenever Chloe gushes about who her secret admirer must be. Because, naturally, each time she is wrong, and Beca’s inexplicable feeling of hurt for being overlooked entirely is conflicting.

Normally, Beca would not be pleased about the idea of a random retreat—sleeping outside? Gross—but she is actually grateful for it now. It is a nice distraction from the constant war within her, the one where she finds herself worrying one moment that Chloe will figure her out, and just as quickly feeling hurt when she doesn’t.

It is a fleeting release, of course, because despite their first day at Aubrey’s crazy campground seeing them too busy for much casual conversation, by the time night falls and Beca finds herself squished into a dangerously small tent like sardines amongst the other Bellas, the conversation turns to Chloe’s secret admirer. Much like most of their conversations lately, in fact.

“Did you ever text Tom?” Jessica questions from the other side of the tent, “Did you ask him if it was from him?”

Jessica does not even have to clarify what ‘it’ is; they are all very well aware. It is the only ‘it’ anybody actually talks about lately, it would seem. There is an excited hum of speculation amidst the girls, at least from everybody but Beca. Beca responds with a prompt eye roll, one that she is glad is disguised by the cloak of darkness engulfing the tent.

“Nope,” Chloe shakes her head—Beca is not looking at her, but she is laid right beside her, she can feel her every movement. “I’m waiting for him to reach out. But I’m pretty sure it has to be him. I mean, the Love Actually reference? We watched that together.”

 _So did we_ , Beca thinks bitterly, suppressing the urge to outwardly scoff. She ignores the fact that even her inner monologue is apparently bitter these days.

“What are you going to do if it is?” Emily pipes up with a certain level of intrigue. Emily is still relatively new to the group, she doesn’t know that Chloe and Tom’s relationship was never even a relationship. It was certainly never anything serious, anyway. Beca feels the need to say so, but again, she refrains. She would like the conversation to end, not for her to accidentally fuel it into a debate. Still, everybody quietens, eager to hear Chloe’s response.

Beca, meanwhile, isn’t sure she even wants to know. Though, once Chloe finally does speak, Beca finds that she is nicely surprised with the information.

“I mean, I don’t feel the same way. I’d just tell him that he’s really sweet and that I appreciate the card, but I don’t see him in that way. I feel like it’s always best to be honest, right?”

Again, Beca is overcome with conflicted feelings, the kind that rock throughout her body much too harshly for her to ignore. On one hand, she finds that she likes the idea of Chloe not reciprocating Tom’s feelings. If you were to ask Beca, he was never good for her, anyway. But on the other, they are not Tom’s feelings, they’re Beca’s, and just as easily as Chloe could squash the idea of anything between she and Tom, it is likely she could do the same to her, too.

So, as the idle chatter begins to fade out around her, with Beca actively not involving herself in any form whatsoever, it is that thought that she eventually falls asleep to. She does so with the realization that she is grateful, for now, for the fact that Chloe does not know the truth.

* * *

By morning, apparently some miracle has happened, because talk of Chloe’s mysterious Valentine's message is surprisingly not the first thing to buzz among the group. After all, it has been a couple days now, maybe the hype is finally beginning to die down. And about time too, Beca thinks.

That, or Aubrey’s abrupt wake up call just has everybody too startled to think any coherent morning thoughts. Whatever the reason, while everybody yawns and tries to shake themselves awake enough to follow Aubrey’s barking orders, a usually very much _not_ -morning person Beca Mitchell is actually grateful for her former captain’s unintentional distraction.

Of course, that is not to say that Beca enjoys the much too physically demanding day that unfolds. As about the least outdoorsy person on the planet, their day of intense obstacle courses and obnoxious amounts of teamwork in the middle of the woods is basically Beca's idea of literal Hell, so by the time they finally take a five minute break, she is already pretty much done with everything. Aubrey’s orders, while appreciated this morning, are now beginning to grate on her in a way that she cannot even comprehend, to the point where Beca is on the verge of losing her temper.

“Oh, so get this,” Chloe says excitedly to the group from somewhere behind Beca, as if she has some groundbreaking information to divulge. She is a little breathless, just like everybody else, but manages to talk with her usual level of pep regardless. Beca envies her for it a little bit, truth be told. “I texted Benji earlier and asked him about the card. He said it wasn’t any of the Trebles.”

While that excited buzz creeps up again like she is among a pack of expectant middle schoolers, everybody beginning to speculate and somebody—Beca thinks it’s Stacie, but considering her ears are still buzzing from the sound of Aubrey’s whistle, she can’t be entirely sure—mentions Tom, Beca and her already very thin temper seem to have had enough. She doesn’t mean to explode in the way that she does, but it just comes out, and she really cannot help herself.

“Dude,” Beca begins through gritted teeth. Her hands rise to cover her face for a split second, before she holds them up in something like defeat. Or a shrug. Or… Or _something_. Honestly, she doesn’t really know what she is doing at this point, but she is sure nothing good can come from it, not as she continues. “If I have to hear you mention that damn Valentine one more time…”

Apparently, her tone is much more forceful than Beca had intended, and seems to catch everybody off guard. Because, while eyes train on her momentarily, she notices the way the group seems to split quickly around her, with everybody stalking away from the upcoming explosion. Everybody apart from Chloe, anyway.

“What is your problem?” Chloe asks, her tone a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Beca glances up to see the way Chloe’s brows have tugged together, an expression of incredulity displayed plainly on her rosy looking face. “Are you jealous or something?”

Beca knows she should not have said anything. In fact, if she could take it back, she would. However, it is out there now, and not answering would likely imply that Chloe is right, that she _is_ jealous. Beca doesn’t want that.

“No,” Beca shakes her head, turning toward Chloe with an exasperated sigh, one that she knows is probably a little unfair, all things considered, but that she somehow just cannot help. She attempts to even out her tone as she continues, though does so to no avail. “I’m just tired of hearing you try to guess who it’s from.”

The look of prior annoyance etched across Chloe’s face, cheeks red from the intense workout Aubrey has just put them through, seems to deepen to something closer to anger, and while she opens her mouth to say something, it is Amy’s voice that Beca hears next.

“Come on, Beca,” Amy says softly, hand reaching out to settle almost comfortingly on Beca’s shoulder for a second. “Just tell her.”

By now, Beca’s anger has risen, too. She is not only annoyed at the situation, but also at Amy for putting her in this position, the one where she is going to either have to think fast, or to spill everything to Chloe. And in front of the other girls to boot. Beca chooses not to even get started on the fact that Amy is the reason they are in this predicament in the first place.

“Tell me what?” Chloe asks, and the split second of hope Beca had felt that perhaps she hadn’t heard Amy’s words disappears in the blink of an eye.

All Beca can do is shoot a glare Amy’s way, though that does not relieve the expectant look on Chloe’s face, and Beca knows she cannot ignore it.

“It’s not from Tom,” Beca states, her tone again a little more angry than she perhaps means it to be. “It’s not from any of the Trebles. It’s not from that random guy from the club, okay? It’s none of them. So quit it.”

By now, everybody else has fallen into an intrigued silence, and while Beca can feel all eyes piercing into her, the only person she can focus on is Chloe. That is not an uncommon thing, if she really thinks about it, but usually, the circumstances are not like this.

“Sorry if I want to know who randomly told me they’re in love with me,” Chloe scoffs, and Beca knows that it is unfair of her to be hurt by the use of the word ‘random’, because it had been an anonymous card containing an anonymous message. To Chloe and anybody else reading it—Beca and Amy aside—it really had been incredibly random. Still, Beca cannot help her inexplicably hurt feelings, the same way that she cannot help how her volume raises as she bites back.

“Just quit guessing!” She half yells. “They’re all wrong!” Beca pauses momentarily, turning now to walk away, because she is worried that if she stays, if she continues to stand there right in front of Chloe, she will spill out information that she does not want to divulge. Not now, and certainly not like this. “And it’s not random,” she cannot help but add quietly. Not quietly enough, though, apparently.

“Oh yeah?” Beca hears Chloe yell from behind her. “And how would you know?”

Usually, Beca’s actions are calculated. She likes to plan things out, to have a little pre-warning as to what is going on, but her response seems to bubble up within her without her even really thinking about it. Without prior contemplation, she turns back toward Chloe, arms lifting into an exaggerated shrug.

“Because I sent it. Happy now?”

Somehow, the silence around them seems to intensify, and while Beca is still not looking at the others, she can feel their stares burning into her, feel the way all eyes are trained on her in mild disbelief. It occurs to her that, like Amy, they are probably not all too surprised to learn that the heartfelt message inside Chloe’s mystery Valentine’s card had come from Beca, but more so that they cannot believe she has actually admitted to it. Then again, neither can she.

“Uh, I think we should just, uh…” Amy starts, taking a large step backward and urging the other girls to follow. It is hard to keep secrets from the rest of the Bellas, since they are all so tight-knit that they are usually so involved in one another’s business, so it surprises Beca that they actually opt to follow Amy’s lead—even Aubrey, who usually likes to be in the middle of everything. Evidently, they all understand the severity of the situation, and when Beca is done reeling, she will likely be thankful for the privacy.

For now, though, Beca takes note of the deafening silence between she and Chloe as they stand face to face, of the way Chloe stares at her in (admittedly valid) disbelief.

“What?” Chloe finally says somewhat dumbly, as if she maybe hadn’t heard her right. Beca notes that her voice is a little higher pitched.

Were it not for the fact that they had had an audience throughout the whole ordeal, Beca would likely try to backtrack, tell Chloe she had said something else. She knows that the question was not an _actual_ question, though, and that Chloe had heard her perfectly well.

“I sent it,” Beca repeats, knowing that she is in too deep to lie her way out of it now. While she is still annoyed, this time it is with herself, so her previously raised volume has dissipated some. Much like her voice, Beca suddenly feels even smaller than ever.

“Why?” Chloe asks, her own quieter tone clearly showing that she, too, is taken aback. Even more so than Beca—it makes sense; the whole thing is news to her, after all. “I mean, you just wanted to make sure I received something, right? You didn’t actually mean what you said?”

Beca wonders, for a moment, whether Chloe is trying to offer her some kind of an out. It would be entirely like Chloe to do all she can to help Beca in some way, after all. And Beca considers taking it, she really does, but with everything out in the open now, it feels stupid to backtrack. So, she decides to ride her wave of unfamiliar adrenaline, because at this point, she realizes that it is now or never.

“I meant it,” Beca clarifies, her words somewhat stuttered this time. “I didn’t think you’d figure out that it was from me, that’s why I typed it up so you wouldn’t recognize the handwriting. I wanted to tell you, but I was scared to at the same time. I saw an opportunity to put everything out there without it coming directly from me, and I took it.”

Beca is not a mindreader, as well as she does feel she knows Chloe, though she can tell exactly what is swirling through Chloe’s mind right now. She knows that Chloe is reciting the message in her head, the message she likely memorized within the first few minutes of reading it on Valentine’s morning, and Beca holds her breath as she waits for the inevitable question. She knows it is coming, but that doesn’t stop her heart from practically pounding right the way out of her chest when it does.

“You’re in love with me?” Chloe questions, earlier’s confusion now very much present again. Her prior anger, however, is suddenly nowhere to be found.

“Look,” Beca sighs, eyes closing and head tipping back as she tries to think of something to say, something that is not going to make this any more intense than it already is. “Let’s just forget it, okay?” Her hands move up to cup her face, while Beca gives herself a moment to collect her frantically moving thoughts. She does not even notice that Chloe has moved closer, not until she feels the familiar sensation of soft hands delicately wrapping around her wrists.

“Beca,” Chloe says a little more firmly now. There is a brief pause, before she gently lowers Beca’s hands from in front of her face, and in spite of herself, Beca cannot help but look at her. She cannot help the way that familiar gaze pulls her in so strongly, nor the overwhelming amount of comfort she feels from the fact that Chloe does not let go. “I asked you a question.”

For a second, Beca just stares, jaw slackening some. She wants to object, to somehow find a way to turn back time and to take back the last few moments. But she can’t, and there is a look of pleading in Chloe’s eyes that causes her heart to ache. It is the same expression Beca is sure that she is mirroring, though for an entirely different reason. She barely recognizes her own voice as she finally responds—stutters, really. “I… Yes.”

While her gaze is trained on Chloe’s face, Beca can see from the corner of her eye the way Chloe’s chest is moving a little faster with her heavier breathing, with the unmistakable nerves that Beca understands all too well, because she is undeniably feeling them herself.

“I’m sorry,” Beca says, the slight tremor to her voice making her feel entirely pathetic, even more so than she already did.

Chloe gently shakes her head, long fingers still wrapped around Beca’s wrists. “I’m not,” Chloe just above whispers. “Sorry, I mean. I’m not sorry that you feel that way. Because you know that I feel that same way about you too, right?”

Beca’s heart had already begun to beat harder against her chest, to the point where she is certain it is about to explode the whole way out. Though, Chloe’s declaration has it somehow hammering ten times faster, and all Beca can do is stare in response, wondering if she has heard her correctly.

“I didn’t want it to be from Tom,” Chloe continues, evidently gauging the fact that Beca has all but lost the ability to form her own words. Chloe is good at that, at filling the silences that Beca cannot break herself. It is one of the things that has always made them so compatible, the fact that they balance one another out the way they do. “I didn’t want it to be from any of the Trebles or from the guy in the club. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it was from you, but I really wished, when I first opened that card, that I’d see your name at the bottom.”

“You did?” Beca questions kind of blankly, almost embarrassed by her own level of surprise. Evidently, though, she has finally found her voice again. At least kind of.

“Of course I did. Beca, I know I haven’t imagined this between us,” Chloe urges. It occurs to Beca that it is almost humorous, the way the tables have turned, and that Chloe is now the one rambling out an explanation, when this whole thing was Beca’s doing in the first place. Chloe is definitely the talker of the two, after all. “I knew there was something special about you the first time I met you, and that feeling has only gotten stronger the whole time I’ve known you. I didn’t know that you felt the same way, but sometimes I thought that you might, and I was always hopeful, you know?”

All Beca can do in response is slowly nod her head, because this whole thing has caught her so harshly off guard that she does not know the proper way to handle it. She had no intention of Chloe finding out that the card was from her, so the idea that she would react this way if she did find out had never even entered her mind.

“Uh, okay,” Beca finally says, though she knows it is hardly the most helpful contribution. The thought of remaining silent, though, of even further awkwardness looming in the air, has her scrambling for something—anything—to say. For once, perhaps for the first time since Beca has known her, in fact, it seems that Chloe is also coming up short for anything more to contribute. She just looks at Beca expectantly, and the silence surrounding them makes Beca feel uneasy. This is what she’d been afraid of, things becoming weird between them. “I guess I didn’t know that…”

“Well,” Chloe points out, her tone so sure despite its gentle volume, “I didn’t know you felt the way you do.”

All Beca can do is nod her head again, attempting to let the last few moments really sink in. They replay on a loop in her mind, and she is lost for anything more to say. She just blinks in astonishment, before continuing in about the lamest way she can think of. “So, uh, does that mean we’re okay?”

Beca can tell by the way Chloe’s bottom lip drags slightly between her teeth that she is trying to bite back a grin. “Of course we’re okay,” Chloe clarifies quickly. It is a simple statement, but one that helps Beca to relax a little bit. Not the whole way, of course—her best friend has just found out that Beca has very strong, very intense feelings for her; Beca thinks that she might never calm down fully.

“Alright, cool,” Beca nods slowly, arms lowering to her sides once Chloe finally releases her gentle grasp. She finds that she misses the contact, like Chloe’s touch was bringing her some kind of much needed comfort. “I just don’t want anything to change between us, you know?”

The way Chloe’s brows knit softly together causes her nose to wrinkle in that all too familiar, all too adorable way. “You don’t?”

Beca swallows, finally able to wet her incredibly dry throat. “Well, no, I mean, I do, but… I don’t know, I just don’t want things to be weird. You know?” She knows that she is not making much sense, but somehow, it seems that Chloe understands. Another thing that makes them so compatible; they always just seem to thoroughly _get_ each other. A feat really, considering how entirely opposite they are.

Chloe’s head nods delicately, expressing that same understanding, and Beca takes note of the way a few strands of red hair fall from her slicked back bun. It is instinct—an instinct she would normally fight, but for some reason forgets that she should—that has Beca reaching up to carefully push those loose strands behind Chloe’s ear. She is met with a small, bashful smile in response.

“Sorry,” Beca chuckles awkwardly, quickly pulling her hand back. She wraps her arm protectively across her middle, palm cradling her elbow. “That was weird, wasn’t it?”

“No,” Chloe promises, her light tone and gentle smile telling Beca that she means what she is saying. “I mean, it was different, but not weird. That’s how this is all going to be while we figure it out, you know? Different, but not weird.”

 _Different but not weird._ Beca replays Chloe’s words over in her mind. _While we figure it out._

While Chloe probably did not intend any deep meaning behind the statement, Beca cannot help but take it as something promising; they have something to figure out, and were it not for all of this, who knows how long it would’ve taken them to reach that point.

Of all possible outcomes from this situation, Beca decides as she slowly nods her head, the reality of their situation finally beginning to set in, this seems like the very best one. Different but not weird… Honestly, what more could she have hoped for?

**Author's Note:**

> Fic for [this gif set](https://chloebeale.tumblr.com/post/190866100410/welp-cats-out-of-the-bag-happy-late-valentines).


End file.
